Wilson's Life
by damigella
Summary: Wilson thinks his problems are over when they're just beginning. This is a sequel to my fic House's Liver, but it is very different in pace and style. Warnings: suicidal ideas, adult themes and language, possible slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

**Acknowledgements**: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

_Summary: House learns something about Wilson._

Wilson sat comfortably in front of Cuddy, in her office. He was positively beaming now that House was solidly on the way to recovery from the liver transplant. She noticed that he hadn't bothered with blow-drying in a while.

"Hi, Wilson. Your request is about House, right? Tell me how he's doing first."

"Yes, it's about House. He's seen a new pain control specialist and he's going to have a mixture of otc analgesics, physical therapy, and occasional opiates. Dr. Li said opiates are not hepatotoxic and not particularly dangerous if taken in a controlled way."

"That's a big if."

"I think he's changed this time. He was scared."

She smiled. "He better have been. I was scared, too."

Wilson's hand brought further disarray to the hair on his nape. "Don't tell me. Cuddy, I need some leave. It can be unpaid if you want, but I want to bring House home with me when he gets discharged next week."

"With you? How about Dominika?"

The oncologist smiled. "She's not a real wife, you know? She'll be visiting every day, help me with cleaning and cooking, and she'll stay at his place."

The Dean sighed. "You never stop surprising me, Wilson. How long do you want your leave to be? I can give you one week paid."

"I need at least one month, plus some part time. Money is not a problem, Lisa." His voice trembled ever so slightly, and she wondered if he was telling the truth.

"You can have your leave, one month with an option up to another month. Is it okay if Brown takes over as temporary Head of Oncology? Can you arrange this with him?"

"Sure. I'll talk to him next. Thank you."

She sighed. "I'll go tell House you'll be there for him now. He certainly needs you."

She hadn't expected the answer she got. "Not as much as I need him." No matter how long she'd known them, she was always surprised by the depth of the connection between them.

* * *

><p>"Hi, Cuddy."<p>

"Hi, Greg. Hi, Dominika." She felt very proud of herself for saying that so calmly. Truth is, she was slowly starting to like Mrs. House. Especially now that she knew they weren't going to live together.

"Good morning, Dr. Cuddy." Dominika wore her usual, effortless smile. If she was embarrassed in front of her, she was good at hiding it.

"I just came to see you, and to tell you I granted Wilson one month of leave to take care of you. How are you today?"

"Ready to go home. Except Wilson wants to keep me prisoner here three more days, claiming it's the surgeon's opinion. I guess he hasn't finished hiding his lace underpants." House looked happy, she suddenly realized. Nothing like being near death to appreciate life.

Dominika laughed. "Don't make such jokes when he's there, or he'll refuse to take care of you and I'll have to do it. I wouldn't mind but I'm not a doctor, you know."

"I know, but you give better massages**.**" He stopped, and seemed to be wondering. "Actually, I'm not sure. It's a question I intend to investigate once I'm home. Were's my butler, Lisa? Why isn't he here?"

"He's busy settling stuff with his successor to the throne. He's temporarily stepping down from Head of Oncology, although he hopes to still see some of his patients if you're well. Don't worry, he'll be with you most of the time starting Saturday." _Wonder how the life in three will be. Pretty sure Wilson will send you back to Dominika before the month is over_, she thought to herself.

* * *

><p>Wilson let himself in as noiselessly as he could, thinking that House might already be sleeping. It had been a long day, and Wilson had insisted on driving Dominika home immediately after an early dinner. From now on she would be driving herself with House's car. He noticed that the light was still on in the master bedroom just when he heard his friend's voice calling him.<p>

It had been obvious to him that they must switch bedrooms; this way, House would be near the tub and have a large TV screen. His eyes had been shining when he saw the Wii, and Wilson was sure that in the next few days his credit cards would end up charged for a few more games.

"Took you long enough. I was bored."

"You look mostly tired. Isn't it time to sleep for you?"

"Soon. Especially after that idiotic nurse woke me up at seven this morning for the last blood test. But there are a couple of things I need to clarify first, now that we are alone and not in an hospital with flimsy walls and nosy coworkers."

Wilson sat down on the bed, wondering whether House wanted alcohol already or was freaking out about the money.

"I found out how much my treatment at Eden cost." Damn. He had expected it, but not so soon. Although it was a better topic than booze. Maybe.

"And there aren't eighty thousand dollars less in my bank account. Also because there aren't eighty thousand dollars in it to begin with. Where did you get the money? Did you ask my mother?" House's expression was weird; it looked like he was concentrating on solving a puzzle. Except this one here was deceptively trivial.

"I…I just remortgaged the condo. It's no big deal, the interest rates are low now."

"And how are you going to pay the higher mortgage without an income?"

"Well, uh, I thought you could help. You know. A little. It's just for a month or two anyway."

House sighed, but his expression didn't change. "I will, of course. I'm used to owing you money but this is a bit out of my comfort zone."

"Don't worry. I'll be back to work soon and I don't need that much money. You'll pay back what you want when you can."

The blue eyes studied him carefully. Wilson felt more like a lab rat or a CT scan than a human being. "You also lied to the transplant committee. You convinced them that I was just pretending to be on Vicodin again. If my data from the Eden clinic stay ever becomes public, your license will be gone."

Wilson shivered at the thought, then he banished it away. It hadn't really been a risk. "That's why it's so expensive. They're discreet."

"And I do remember the last night before the transplant. All of it." His eyes seemed to want to pierce him now. Wilson felt the blood rush to his face, and all he could do about it was look away from the searching gaze fixed on him.

"I…I wanted you to feel comfortable. Cared for. It might have been your last night." Wilson thought he sounded convincing; after all, he had rehearsed the sentence before. Until he glanced in House's eyes again. He knew. He felt his heart accelerating.

"I'm sure that's what you do with every one of your dying baldies. Give them a skin-to-skin massage and then sneak into their bed. Wilson, do you want to tell me or should I guess?"

Wilson felt like a rabbit in front of a snake. He knew he was done for, and he didn't even try to run away. "I will, but you have to promise to stay here. Don't do anything stupid."

"I'm waiting. And I won't go. How could I, anyway?" The last sentence was spoken much lower, and there was an unhidden bitterness in it.

Wilson slid his sweated palms over his slacks, then tried mechanically to put his hair in order. So many years of waiting and hiding and now it was over. He felt nonsensically relieved. "House, I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

**Acknowledgements**: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

_Summary: Dominika learns something about House and Wilson_

"House, I love you."

House closed his eyes and enjoyed the momentary rush of endorphins that usually accompanied the solution of a medical case: Wilson's admission was the equivalent of a positive blood test. Then he opened his eyes againand wondered whether forcing such an admission hadn't been a hasty decision. Wilson seemed positively scared; he could see the blood pulsating in his jugular vein, and he was panting slightly, like after a physical effort.

"I just wanted to know. We don't have to discuss this now. Or ever." He wondered whether Wilson would try to touch him, and was relieved and angry at the same time when he realized that he wasn't going to.

"No, of course not. Unless you want to. Is there anything you need? Because I want to go to bed, I'm very tired." Wilson was standing now, leaning on the doorframe. He looked ready to run away.

House sighed. "A beer is out of the question, right?"

Wilson wrinkled his forehead. "I bought several kinds of non-alcoholic beer. You might want to give one of them a try."

"Bring two. We can have one each and swap halfway." When Wilson winced, he added "It's not more unsanitary than tongue kissing, you know?"

Wilson came back with the open bottles and gave one to House, who gestured to him to take back his place on the bed. House then took a long gulp, and had to admit to himself that the stuff wasn't bad. He looked at the bottle - expensive imported stuff. No wonder it was so good. And then he had an idea.

"Wilson?"

"Yes?" The brown eyes seemed to look for something burrowed deep in the bottom of the beer bottle.

"I want you to sleep in this bed."

"That's nonsense. You should sleep here."

"I will, but it's wide enough for two. Just no weird moves and keep your hands to yourself, okay?"

"Why…why would you want me to?"

"It felt good. You know, in the hospital."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"It's not a good idea for me to be alone. This way I won't have to shout if I need something in the night."

"Of course. I'll go and change in the other room."

Ten minutes later, House heardbare feet approaching, and a sigh. Then the mattress moving under Wilson's weight. He pretended to be asleep for a while, quietly enjoying the warmth so near him. Then he rolled over, until he was near enough to recognize the body smell that had kept him company through the longest hours of that dreary night. He wondered why he found it so comforting while he fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Wilson lay in the dark next to what seemed to be a sleeping House, and tried to think. He couldn't. His brain kept repeating the conversation until the avowal, perversely suggesting alternative statements and diversion strategies which he might have employed had he been smarter. Not just useless thoughts but clearly bogus; once House had decided he had to confess, he had had no choice in the matter.<p>

His memory went back to the long night he had spent awake, alternating affectionate gestures when House was, or seemed, conscious and just learning as much as possible of the shape of his face, the smell of his body and the texture of his skin when he wasn't. Fearing that he would soon be lost forever, and yet hoping, hoping until the last possible minute.

He felt House rolling closer, his breath warm on his neck. He noticed his own heartbeat slowly reacting, not with excitement but with some weird kind of solace, as if House's barely perceptible snores were all that was needed to ensure his happiness. His own breathing became more regular, and he fell asleep without noticing.

* * *

><p>House was woken up the next morning by the enticing smell of freshly brewed coffee. Soon he was eating pancakes with bacon, hoping that his new liver would be up to the task. After breakfast Wilson cleaned up while he slouched on the couch and switched on the television. Soon Wilson sat near him. He checked on his watch: Dominika would arrive soon. A good moment to start a serious conversation without it becoming annoying long.<p>

He switched off the television. "I thought about what you said yesterday."

Wilson didn't quite look at him, or not for more than a second. "And? What did you decide?"

"That we can keep sleeping together as we did last night. I sleep better when I'm not alone. Unless it's a problem for you."

"Is this all you've thought?" Wilson looked confused.

"That, and I need time away from you. Time to think. How about a few hours every day?"

Now the oncologist was looking at him. "I can't leave you alone. What if you get sick? You're still recovering from major surgery and the anti-rejection drugs make your immune system weaker."

"I'm a doctor, Wilson. That's what the MD after my name stands for. I know. And I won't be alone. I'll be with Dominika."

Wilson looked like he had been stabbed, but nodded his assent. "I could try and schedule some patient visits. They'll be happy to see me even if they have another attending oncologist."

House suddenly realized that Wilson couldn't possibly know he had no intention of sleeping with his so-called wife: he was probably simply jealous. He felt almost sorry for him.

In that moment, there was a knock at the door; Wilson stood up and let Dominika in. After the greetings, Wilson said "I should go shopping for groceries. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Will you call me if there's a problem, Dominika?"

House was impressed. "You'll find lunch when you come back!" Wilson managed a very small smile, and left.

* * *

><p>Dominika smiled and went to sit near her husband. She had noticed how fast Wilson had gone, and she imagined this had been arranged so that they could be alone together. She started pulling his face near hers, and was very surprised when he gently but firmly stopped her. "Please, no. You can tidy up if you want, or watch television or just do nothing. But… I don't want to be touched. And please be quiet. I need to think and make some phone calls."<p>

She was surprised, but not totally so. Maybe he was still hurting after the surgery, or maybe he was just in a bad mood. Since the kitchen was very much in order she went to tidy up in the bedrooms. And then she noticed. Only one bed had been slept in.

So that's why Wilson was so caring, and why her "husband" didn't want her to touch him. Why had he kissed her at all on their wedding night, then? And hadn't he been supposedly in love with his boss until little more than a month ago? She cleaned up the bathroom while thinking, noticing that also in this case only one had been used.

She briefly wondered whether they had showered together, but decided to ignore such thoughts in the future. If House was so fast in changing his mind, she figured out he might also change it back and become interested in her. In the meantime, she would do what he wanted her to - it certainly wasn't too hard.

When she went back to the living room, House was on the phone. She got the last bit of his conversation, which had apparently started while she was cleaning the bathroom and couldn't hear.

"Yes, I think that would fit perfectly. Great. I'll give three of your clinic hours to the others. Thanks, bye."

* * *

><p>Wilson spent one hour drinking a very large and very sweet latte in a nearby coffee shop and one hour grocery shopping. When he came back home he found House and Dominika cooking together.<p>

Over lunch they arranged that Dominika would come every morning at nine thirty and stay until after lunch time. She also promised to take care of laundry and ironing. After lunch they drove to a nearby park and House had his first "walk" outside - five minutes, after which he basically collapsed on a bench. He wasn't even angry when, once they decided to leave thirty minutes later, Wilson suggested that he use a wheelchair. He didn't go as far as saying "Thank you," of course, but he didn't even try to put up a fight.

Once they got home Dominika asked whether they needed anything, collected Wilson's laundry and left. Wilson looked at House in a questioning way. "Did you tell her to go away so early? It wasn't necessary, you know."

House smiled back to him. "I didn't tell her anything. In fact, I didn't talk to her at all while you were gone. But my wife's smart, and she tidied the bedrooms. Or, rather, the bedroom."

Wilson was as powerless at fighting his blood spreading color on his cheeks as he was at halting the smile that slowly took hold of his face. House had obviously planned this, and he wasn't going to complain.

* * *

><p>Wilson felt his cheeks almost redden again as he replied to Dominika's polite greetings on Monday morning when he let her in. His work bag was ready and he quickly took his leave, feeling a totally unreasonable comfort in the knowledge that she would find the guest bedroom as pristine as it had been two days ago.<p>

He had already called both Cuddy and Sandy to inform them that he would be in to work every day 10-12, but he didn't plan to follow any patient personally. He wanted to be free in case there was any problem with House's recovery - he told Cuddy he was just scared about transplant rejection and not about a possible relapse into either Vicodin or alcohol use, but he couldn't very well lie to himself.

Once he was in his office, he slipped on his lab coat and went to see some of his former patients in the ped ward; he knew how important familiar faces were to children. On his way back to the office ninety minutes later he felt almost grateful to House for making him do this. Thinking of Sasha's thankful smile when she had seen him almost made him want to cry. He had been a constant presence for about half of her too-short life, and now he would have a chance to be so until the end. Probably next week - he hated being a good oncologist sometimes.

He sat in his office and switched on his computer, wondering whether he should catch up with the literature (something he could also do at home) or help Brown out with the department's paperwork. He decided to send an email to Brown and let him arrange an appointment for one of the next days, and was glad to receive an answer almost immediately, with a proposal to meet on Wednesday morning.

As he started going through the summary of what looked like an interesting paper, he heard a soft knock on the door. "Come in," he said without lifting his head, figuring out it was probably Sandy. An unexpected female voice answered "Good morning Dr. Wilson. Can we have lunch together today?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

**Acknowledgements**: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

_Summary: Thirteen and Cuddy each learn something about Wilson._

Remy looked across the table as Wilson sat down, after having helped her into her seat. She found it funny that he still respected the most traditional forms of politeness even when obviously very upset. The waiter came immediately and took their orders, a well-done steak and a salad for Wilson and a cheeseburger and fries for herself. A minute later he was back with their ice water and then left again, and she could feel Wilson's eyes on her.

"So, how much has House told you already?" He sounded angry, although probably not with her.

She lowered her eyes to the tablecloth. This was going to be hard. "Dr. Wilson, I'm sorry…"

"Call me James," he interrupted her. "After this conversation you'll know more about me than my own mother. Answer, please." His tone had softened.

"House told me that you just came out to him as bisexual, and that you needed someone to talk to. Someone who wouldn't go and repeat what you said to any one else. He insisted on those two points: that you need to talk, and that I wouldn't tell. Not even him."

"And why did you agree?"

She sighed with relief. This was the one question she had expected. "I could say because I care for my job, but that's not the point. Coming out at your age must be hard and you can use a friend. I would have done this myself had I known." She took a sip of her ice water. "That is, had I known that you were aware of it and planning to come out."

"You…you knew?"

"That you're attracted to House? I think everybody has suspected, but they were lulled into oblivion because you were, after all, straight." She smirked as her voice lingered ironically on the last word. "I knew within a week of my starting to work with House. I even told Amber when she started dating you. She said you were obviously in denial and were going to remain so for the rest of your life."

Wilson gasped at the unexpected mention of Amber's name. "Amber…knew? And she still let me spend time with House?"

"She loved you and wanted you happy. She didn't really have a choice, and she didn't mind."

Their food arrived, and they both started eating. Remy was glad of having the opportunity to think back **to** Amber without speaking, and to have an excuse to change the subject once they were done.

When the waiter removed their dishes, Wilson looked at her intensely. Then he lowered his eyes and said "I'm in love with House. I have been for years. And he forced me to say it. Now I don't know what to do. I don't know what he thinks. I'm afraid of losing his friendship. His respect. His…his affection." She had to struggle to hear him, his voice was so low and the last word was almost a whisper.

"I don't think you'll be losing anything. He genuinely seems to care about you. Only, I'm not sure he cares the way you want him to. He's not totally straight of course, but I think he's much more hetero than you are, James."

Wilson didn't look up. He nodded. "Is it so obvious, really?"

The waiter came back with their espressos.

"Yes. To me, at least. I've seen you checking out a number of men." She poured some milk in her coffee. "Don't worry, I won't tell Chase. Not that he would be so bothered, he likes it when people look at him."

"And House…I don't have a chance, right?"

She felt like shouting _Why would you want one? He's an obnoxious asshole and will only break your heart!_ But she didn't. Instead, she reflected long before answering and chose her words carefully. "You might. I think he likes you, physically, as much as he can like a man at all." She finished her coffee. "He's scared, I think. Being in a relationship with you would be a major change in his life. Much bigger than Cuddy. And if it went wrong…he wouldn't have you to go back to. I'm not sure he will ever want to risk that."

Wilson sunk his head in his hands. "I'm not sure I would want to risk it, either. I didn't want to tell him, ever."

She delicately touched his hand with her fingertips. "I don't think you will ever lose his friendship, whatever you do. Don't worry about that. And now it's time for you to go back home, House will be waiting. Call me anytime you need to talk."

"Hi, Cuddy." She smiled at him when he sat down in the visitor's chair.

"Hi, Wilson. How did the first week with House go?"

"Really well. Making him take care of his health is a bitch, but not as hard as I would have thought." He smiled. He had lost some weight in the last weeks and his hair was slightly longer than usual - he looked younger, she thought, mostly because of the shine in his eyes. Things were really going well, apparently.

"How's the pain control?"

"He does need opiates. I don't prescribe for him anymore, Dr. Li does, but I keep the stuff locked. And he's been surprisingly reasonable, and willing to give physical treatments more space. My massaging techniques are improving."

"I've spoken to Brown. The Department seems to run smoothly. Thank you for checking in every day."

"It was House's idea. As usual with him, a really good one."

"I think we should reconsider your leave agreement. I want to be able to pay you for the work you do these days. I've spoken with accounting-"

An angry red light started shining on and off on her phone. "I'm sorry, this might be urgent." She picked up.

_"Dr. Cuddy?"_

"Speaking."

_"Here Tamara Radcliffe, calling from the New Jersey Board of Physicians. Can we talk privately?"_

"Yes, certainly. There's someone here but they can't hear you."

Wilson had gotten kind of lost in thought, Cuddy noticed. Whatever the people at the other hand had to say, he obviously didn't care.

_"This is about Dr. James Evan Wilson. Evidence has been presented to the Ethics Committee that he lied during Gregory House's transplant hearing. There will be a preliminary hearing on Tuesday next, and a decision will be taken in a subsequent hearing, probably two weeks later."_

"I…uh…am very surprised, but thank you for letting me know. I am sure everything will be clarified soon. Should I inform him?" She looked with worry at the unsuspecting, relaxed physician sitting in front of her, his thoughts clearly somewhere else.

_"You may tell him. We tried to contact him directly but his secretary said he's on leave. His license will be suspended until further notice."_

"I see. Sure, I'll let him know. Thanks for the information. Goodbye."

Cuddy replaced the receiver in its cradle and turned her face to Wilson, who had returned his attention to her at the end of the phone call. Apparently her face betrayed some of her thoughts, because he looked at her with concern and asked "Bad news?"

Her voice came out steadier than she would have thought possible. "Yes, and I'm afraid it concerns you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

**Acknowledgements**: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

_Summary: Wilson's lawyer learns something about Wilson and House_

House remembered when he had been the one lying to save a patient. They never were able to prove he knew about the suicide attempts, though. He wondered how they had found out about Wilson and what their evidence was. Had it been just a mistake or did someone want to stop the oncologist's career? He tried to focus again on what Wilson was saying, since he had now started speaking again after many minutes of silence.

"The preliminary hearing is on Tuesday. I think you'll be fine home with Dominika."

"I will want to be there. You know that."

"You may come, nothing very much will happen. I'll just be told what the evidence is against me, and then I'll have two weeks to consult with my lawyer. But the actual process…I wish I could avoid going myself."

"You think it will end badly?"

"I don't think I can keep my license."

"Can't you explain it was a matter of life and death?"

"That's the problem, you see. I called that friend of mine at the transplant office. A woman died five days after your transplant. She's the one you overtook on the transplant list. She was forty-seven, and leaves behind two children in school age. I…I killed her so that you could live. He said that they want to make this an exemplary case. Show that doctors punish those among them that try to get unlawful health privileges for their colleagues." He sighed. "I think I would normally agree with that."

House was shocked. He had expected Wilson to fight and try to save his license. "What will you do?"

The eyes looking at him were empty. Not just of joy or hope, but of any recognizable human emotion. "I don't know. Now I'll take care of you. When you no longer need me, you can ask me again."

House moved over, leaving space on his left side. Wilson sat near him on the couch. He didn't react when House held his hands between his larger ones. But he didn't move his hands away either.

* * *

><p>"Please come in."<p>

Miranda Kim let her client and his friend in. She had read all the documents, made a number of phone calls, and checked the precedents as well as the transplant regulations, including the latest additions. Things didn't look good for Dr. Wilson's license, unfortunately. It was better to tell the bitter truth to her unfortunate client clearly.

"There's no way you can deny what happened. The evidence against you is overwhelming."

"So…what do you expect my sentence to be?"

"Permanent New Jersey medical license loss. And most likely, a federally filed recommendation against any State of the Union giving you any kind of medical license again." She looked at the two men sitting in front of her. Each of them was more than a foot taller than she was, and still they were looking up at her, hoping she was going to pull some magic trick to save what was obviously a lost cause.

She tried to soften her voice. "I see you have studied at McGill. You could try to get a license again in Canada."

"What would I need to do that?"

"You would have to start with the internship, unfortunately."

She could hear him gulp. "I would have to leave my country, my…my friends, and start from zero. I'm not sure I can go through being an intern again."

"It's your only chance. That, or going to Central or South America. There they might be willing to accept your credentials."

"I don't speak Spanish, or Portuguese. And Canada is already too far away." She could see him looking with longing at the man at his side. The man whose life he had saved. Allegedly because he was a brilliant colleague, a man who saved lives. She suddenly realized that, although this was obviously true, it may not be the whole truth.

She softened her voice. "There is one kind of precedent where a Board showed mercy. A doctor in Oregon lied to put his wife on the transplant list. He got a huge fine and a ban from any administrative responsibility, but he could keep his license. They decided that his judgement had been naturally skewed and gave some fault to whoever had allowed him to testify in a case he obviously had a personal interest in."

It was the taller doctor who answered her. "That's useful to know, Ms. Kim. Too bad I got married a few weeks ago and not to him."

A broken voice could be heard from below the dark bangs covering her client's face. "Dr. House is right. There's no way this precedent can play a role in our case. Friendship…friendship is not love. Not even when it lasts two decades."

Miranda Kim sighed audibly. "I don't know what else to suggest. We'll try to work the recent marriage angle. Is your wife pregnant, Dr. House?"

She could almost see a smirk on his face. "If she is, I'm not the cause of it. But I don't think she is."

"My license is gone, isn't it?" The red-rimmed eyes were staring at her now.

"I'll try my best**,** Dr. Wilson, but you can't expect miracles."

She walked them both to the door and handed each of them a business card. "Call me anytime if something relevant comes to your mind. As you can see you also have my home and personal cell number."

They thanked her and went out. She sighed as she closed the door. She really felt sorry for them.

* * *

><p>The end titles of the third Hitchcock movie of the day were rolling on screen. Midnight. House turned to face the hunched figure of his friend on the other end of the couch. "I think it's time to go to bed. Do you want a sleeping pill?"<p>

Wilson stirred, straightening his back. "No. I can't go on drugging myself. And I have to start thinking about the future."

"You said you would stay with me as long as I need you." House felt he didn't sound like himself at all. But he didn't quite care; he was worried.

Wilson let out a quiet laugh. "I could be gone tomorrow. You're doing very well with your new pain control regime. You don't need to live with a doctor, Dominika could take care of you. You'll soon be well enough to work again. And if I'm not there to give you massages, you can hire Brandy again. It will cost you less than paying my full mortgage in the long run."

"Great to hear you have it all figured out. Time to go to bed, then."

* * *

><p>Wilson came back from the smaller bedroom wearing his pajamas and slid down in bed near House. The diagnostician surprised him by not turning off the light; instead, he faced him.<p>

"I want the truth. What are you going to do if you lose your license?" The blue eyes were drilling inside his soul. Again.

He tried valiantly to keep up the lie. "I'll sell the condo, move to Canada, and apply for an internship."

"Liar." There had been less than one second between his last word and House's reply. He had expected his answer.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Isn't this obvious? The truth. What will you do?" How could he ever think of lying to House? A House who carefully scrutinized his every move, every expression of his face, every turn of his voice? He had two choices: telling the truth or saying nothing. Slowly, he realized that the two choices weren't really that different. House would know the truth anyway.

"I…I think I will kill myself." Wilson couldn't believe that he was actually saying this. He had been planning it, of course, since Cuddy had told him. He knew he couldn't face a life without his practice, and neither could he face starting again from zero. Away from this fragile friendship that was the only thing he had left. Away from the man he loved, and who somehow cared for him, in his own way.

House remained silent for a long time. Then he whispered two words Wilson had rarely heard. "Thank you." He switched off the light. In the darkness, Wilson felt a movement, and two strong arms dragging him near, pushing his right ear on his friend's shoulder as a hand delicately caressed his hair. More whispers. "Sleep now."

They remained awake for a long time, without moving, until finally sleep overtook them both.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

**Acknowledgements**: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

_Summary: Wilson learns something about House_

When they finished breakfast the next morning everything seemed normal: House slouched on the couch and started searching for interesting material on the TiVo while Wilson tidied up the kitchen. It was only when his friend sat near him and switched off the television set that House noticed that something was wrong. Wilson hadn't bothered blow drying and he didn't wear his work clothes, although so far his lack of a license hadn't prevented him from going to the ward and talking to his patients. He noticed it was almost ten o'clock. Where was Dominika?

"I'm not going to the hospital and Dominika will not comethis morning. I told her we'd call if you wanted to see her in the afternoon." Wilson interrupted his train of thoughts. His voice had an unusual strength and self-assurance. "I need to talk to you now."

"What do you want?"

"I want to know what your plans are. For me. For us. I…you…" WIlson couldn't finish his sentence.

House couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. "Do we really need to talk about this?"

Wilson stood facing him, his hands on his hips. And for the first time since House could remember, he didn't look ridiculous at all in this position. "Yes. I need to know, since in a few days my life as it has been until now will end."

"Since you threw that life away to save mine. Except, of course, you hadn't planned on getting caught, had you? Had you known what was going to happen, I would be in a tomb now and Dominika may or may not be Mrs. Wilson the fourth, depending on how carefully you decided to honor my memory." House couldn't help the bitter tone of his voice, and he didn't even try too hard. "You regret saving my life, despite the fact I never asked you to. You should have let me die. Better for everyone, myself included."

Before House could realize what was going on, Wilson was on his knees in front of him. He held his face with both his hands, forcing him to look straight into his eyes. "House. I do not regret what I did, and I never will."

Wilson wasn't crying. He wasn't explaining. He was just looking at House, and there was hope and trust in his eyes. Hope that his friend would accept his words. Trust that he would be believed. House was used to coaxing the truth out of a recalcitrant Wilson. But this time he didn't have to. Wilson was not lying.

Time stood still as House's brain worked. Wilson was not lying.

Slowly, tears started running on House's face. He didn't sob, in fact he was completely silent. Just the tears running down. He didn't move his hands to catch them. Wilson's hands gently left the sides of his face, wiped away the tears, then collected each new one as it started its downward journey. His eyes hadn't flinched, and neither had House's.

Finally, House moved. His arms slid below Wilson's armpits, pulled him higher and into a wordless embrace, each face pressing on the other's left shoulder.

* * *

><p>They still hadn't exchanged a word, but Wilson knew that something fundamental had changed. That this time, House believed him. He let himself sink in the warmth of the embrace and stopped thinking. Soon, House pushed him up, back to a normal sitting position. He moved himself so that there were a few inches between them. Wilson felt House's left hand moving towards him, his fingers threading with those of his right, holding tight. He almost forgot to breathe. He waited.<p>

House had closed his eyes. "I did try sex with men when I was in college. Mostly because I was horny, and it was so absurdly easy to get. But I always liked it so much better with women."

Wilson couldn't help but wonder at how right Thirteen's perceptions were. Remy's perceptions.

"I didn't think I would find your physical nearness pleasant. When you touched me and held me…it felt unexpectedly good. I don't know how real it was. Maybe it was because I was dying. I was so drugged. And still, I couldn't stand the thought of touching Dominika afterward. I hadn't wanted to make love with her anyway after we got married, because I felt I already liked her too much. But then… I didn't even want to kiss her."

Wilson listened. He felt he was learning every word that came his way and he could repeat them all. Like he had them written in front of his eyes. He looked at them again, as House paused. Thought. Chose more words for him to hear.

"I…I really wanted you yesterday evening. But I was scared. Scared that I was taking advantage of you, in your vulnerable state. Scared that I would offer you what you wanted, only to snatch it away afterward. Scared that I would drive you insane. Drive you to your grave. Scared I would make implicit promises I couldn't keep."

House slowly turned towards him and opened his eyes, facing him, as Wilson had been facing his friend since the latter had started talking.

"I don't know whether I want to be with you, Wilson. There have been too many changes in my life since Cuddy left me. I don't take changes very well. Not even when I start them myself. I'm not ready for another change now. I'm sorry."

There was another long silence, as the two men looked at each other, holding hands. But Wilson felt that now the silence was friendly, not threatening. He let the words he had heard sink in, appreciated their truth, acknowledged their logic. And then House added some more words. "Please, don't kill yourself. Give me time. Time to thank you for saving my life."

* * *

><p>Dominika didn't know what to expect when the telephone rang. She was making herself some lunch. "Hi, Dominika. This is Wilson. Do you think you can come for a couple of hours this afternoon? I need to go and see someone."<p>

She arrived as Wilson was ready to leave. She started quietly doing the usual household chores while her husband locked himself in the spare bedroom to make a very long phone call. She tried eavesdropping but it didn't quite work; he was talking in a low voice and very fast, alternating long speeches and long silences, probably corresponding to analogously long speeches from whoever he was talking to.

When he came out of the bedroom, forty minutes later, he looked pensive but hopeful. He sat on the couch and asked her for the remote, and he looked surprised to hear her talk uninvited, then almost angered by her words: "House, we've got to talk."

Dominika realized she hadn't been clear enough. "Not about me: about Wilson." She saw him immediately close his mouth, gulping down whatever he had started to say. "House, I've seen love in your face today."

* * *

><p>"Thanks for agreeing to meet me at such short notice."<p>

Remy smiled encouragingly. Wilson looked exhausted. No wonder, with the process looming and, if the hospital's gossip was to be trusted, not a chance in hell of him ever having a license again.

"How are things with my boss?"

He passed a hand through his hair. "Could be worse, I guess. He actually…talked to me. About it."

She felt duly impressed. "He did. Did he says yes?"

"No. But he didn't say no, either. He said he needs time, and everything in his life changed too fast."

"That's for sure. His life has been quite a roller coaster recently."

"This time it's my fault. I told him I'd commit suicide if I lost my license."

Remy felt herself becoming pale. Then she extended one hand to hold his right one (his left was curled around the coffee mug). "I'm so sorry. Is it better now?"

Wilson sighed. "He made me promise to wait. I can't refuse, whatever he asks. But I can't imagine my life without medicine. Or without him." He looked apologetic. "I'm ashamed of myself, you know. I might throw away my life, and you're here in front of me, willing to fight even if you know you have no chance. I should learn from you."

"You shouldn't. I've been pretty self-destructive in the past. But try not to give up hope. Not until it is clear that all is lost. Focus on House, and try to forget the process. Enjoy the time together. At least you're both free from work now."

Later, Wilson thanked her as he left. She wondered whether she'd been completely honest about her own thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

**Acknowledgements**: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

_Summary: The disciplinary committee learns something about House and Wilson. _

The day of the process came. Of course the official name wasn't process; it was disciplinary hearing. But House knew that Wilson would be accused, found guilty, and very likely condemned to choose between a life without practicing medicine or exile.

Rationally, House knew that none of this was his responsibility. Wilson had arranged the detox and had lied for him of his own initiative. But deep down, guilt was nagging him. A guilt fueled by the knowledge that none of this would have happened if he had been acting rationally, no matter how many good reasons he had found for throwing rationality out of the window. He wished he had died waiting for transplant. He wished he hadn't gone to visit Wilson with his blood test result. He wished he had missed the swimming pool. More than anything, he wished he had been willing to control his Vicodin and alcohol consumption.

* * *

><p>Miranda discreetly held Wilson's hand. She usually didn't touch her clients, but she really felt sorry for him. He had called her early in the morning and thanked her for her help, saying that he may very well be too upset to do it afterward. This was also unusual, and not because she hadn't defended obviously guilty people before.<p>

The review of the evidence had been a series of terrible blows; it was indeed impossible to deny that Wilson had purposefully fed the transplant committee a well-planned lie. Then it was her turn. She had called Cuddy first, who had spoken in favor of Wilson's integrity, but had ultimately had to admit he had fooled her when she should have known better. She had called House's patients to witness how important his contribution had been. She had contacted the guy who had gotten Wilson's liver, but he answered that they were no longer in touch and that he was too busy to even tape a short declaration.

Now she was down to her last witness before Wilson: the transplant beneficiary, Dr. Gregory House. She was surprised and pleased: the dark suit and ironed blue dress shirt looked elegant with his shaved face, and he was wearing a silk tie as well. He asked to be able to talk sitting instead of standing, and an usher brought a chair.

She would be the only one questioning him, since the other side had declined to hear him. Her first step was to prove that the relapse had been short and caused by severe external circumstances.

"Dr. House, how long has your Vicodin relapse been?"

"I took my first Vicodin on the day my then girlfriend, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, was mistakenly diagnosed with terminal cancer.

I started using regularly again after she found out about the first pill and decided that our relationship had to end. I took the last Vicodin before being admitted to Eden Clinic. That would make it six weeks of relapse."

"How long had you been opiate-free before?"

"Eighteen months."

"How long had you been in a relationship with Dr. Cuddy?"

"We had been together for almost a year. I hoped we would be together all our lives. I used to spend the night at her place and babysit her daughter."

"Are you currently using opiates?"

"Yes. They are part of the pain management protocol by Dr. Li Yongbin. I use them only for breakthrough pain. He thinks I cannot have a reasonable life quality without occasional opiate use. However, I am no longer taking Vicodin because of its acetaminophen component."

She knew that Dr. Li's full report, including a damning criticism of House's previous opiate-free regime, had been filed with the committee, so she didn't need to push the matter, although she would go back to it in her final speech.

"When did you realize that your liver was failing?"

"I had blood tests performed on Sunday, April 17th, under a false name."

Now came the tricky part. She tightened her hold on her client's hand.

"What did you do then?"

"I went to visit Dr. James Wilson, and I asked him to save my life."

"What is your relationship with Dr. Wilson?"

"We have been friends since 1990, and colleagues at PPTH since 1997. He is my personal physician and my medical proxy. He has also been in love with me for many years; the time he spent with me was the main cause of his last divorce."

The whole room seemed filled by a swarm of bees, so loud was the buzzing of the people present. She noticed with satisfaction a lot of whispering in the committee. She quickly looked at her client: he was paler than before and looked completely stunned, his eyes fixed on the back of Dr. House's head.

"Were you in a relationship together during this time?"

"No. I never showed any interest, and he pursued relationships with other people. He dated a doctor at PPTH for awhile, then one of his ex-wives, but they broke up last November."

"Did you offer him to be in a relationship if he saved your life?"

"Yes, I did."

Again she paused to let the noise calm down. This was going well.

"How does this fit with you being married, actually newly married?"

"My wife couldn't save my life. Wilson could, and did. My wife understood and accepted; she'd rather be without me because I was with someone else than because I was dead."

"Are you and Dr. Wilson currently in a relationship?"

"Yes. We are currently living as a couple in his flat. My wife has been only a friend to me since the evening I went to ask Wilson for help."

Miranda allowed herself a small smile. Precedent, here I come!

"Is this arrangement permanent?"

"I would say yes, but I had also hoped that my relationship with Dr. Cuddy was permanent. Let's say that it is unless Dr. Wilson chooses to end it." Miranda felt proud of her witness. Of course the whole dialog had been planned among them, but he was really good at this. Just the right pause at the beginning, and the perfect touch of sadness at the end.

And now she went in for the kill. Two more key facts that she hoped would push the committee in the direction she wanted.

"Who had the idea of going through fast detox and then lying to the transplant committee?"

"I did. Dr. Wilson arranged the detox because I was too sick to do it."

"Would you have been able to afford the Eden Clinic treatment if Dr. Wilson hadn't paid for you?"

"No. I lead an expensive lifestyle. Anyway, he didn't ask me to pay."

Nothing like eighty thousand dollars to say "I love you". Miranda happily assured that she had no more questions, and Dr. House left the witness stand and went back to sit near his wife, who smiled at him and passed him a glass of water.

* * *

><p>Wilson was shocked. He had barely been able to answer the questions his lawyer had asked him. First, he declared that everything had happened "precisely as Dr. House had said," in the hope that no one would ask him to repeat all the lies he'd just heard. He had found less difficulty than expected declaring openly whom he was in love with, and for how long he had been. He confirmed that they were now living as a couple, and conveniently forgot to mention that the relationship was a sexless one.<p>

With a few clever questions Miranda prodded him to say that it was totally unfair to have Dr. House lose his life for a brief relapse that was only the fault of his heartless ex-girlfriend (luckily said ex, and current boss, had already left to resume her usual duties) and he had even spontaneously cried as he described how he felt when House had told him he was going to die. Miranda looked ready to dance when that happened - luckily the committee couldn't see her face. He had pleaded guilty and asked the president to take into account the extenuating circumstances.

Miranda had delivered a brilliant speech, making the Oregon precedent her focus and insisting that, contrary to what her opponent was saying, this was not simply a case of a doctor saving another doctor but rather of a human being fighting for the life of the person he was in love with. They had been waiting now for more than two hours. Wilson had joined House, Dominika and Miranda for a quick lunch at a nearby diner, but he had been unable to eat.

* * *

><p>"Dr. Wilson, will you please come in? The committee has reached a decision."<p>

"… sufficient evidence has been presented to this committee to prove that Dr. James Wilson and Dr. Gregory House currently live in a committed, quasi-marital relationship, and hence some versionofthe Oregon precedent applies, especially in the assumption that Dr. Wilson's assessment that Dr. House's relapse was the effect of exceptional circumstances is correct. In any case, Dr. James Wilson will no longer be allowed to apply to the transplant committee, nor to have any administrative responsibility. He will pay five hundred thousand dollars of damages over a period of ten years to the family of the late Ms. Geena Rudolph-Jenkins. He will retain his medical license on probation for a period of sixty months, during which Dr. Gregory House will be tested weekly to check that his opiates use is consistent with Dr. Li's protocol and that he is not abusing alcohol. Any failed test will bring Dr. Wilson a warning; two successively failed tests will mean a permanent withdrawal of his license and a federal warning on his name."

* * *

><p>As usual at the end of a process, Miranda saw everybody start to move at the same time. Her client, to his credit, stayed where he was and thanked her profusely. She had however noticed that he had glanced a couple of times towards Dr. House, now seated among the public, in silent invitation.<p>

When she finally turned to leave she found that her way was blocked, but she could see that House had managed to reach the corridor and was now determinedly limping in their direction.

House almost fell as a dark haired man pushed past him; he was moving fast and elbowed his way through the crowd until he faced her client. Apparently they knew each other, since Dr. Wilson looked at him and said "What are you doing here?" The other man didn't answer, but pulled out a gun and shot Wilson in the chest, from a distance of no more than three feet, while shouting "Let's see if House can help you out of death as well!"

Taking advantage of the general astonishment, the man started retreating very fast. The hearing didn't take place in a tribunal: no violence was expected, and there were no guards. The crowd opened in front of the armed man like butter in front of a warm knife. The only one who didn't move was House, his eyes fixed on Wilson's body and the growing blood stain on his chest, his mouth open in a silent scream.

The armed man easily shoved House aside, but the latter managed to throw the handle of his cane between his running ankles, making him fall. "Should I kill you, too?" He shouted from the floor. House's cane thwacked hard on the hand which held the gun, and even to Miranda it was clear that the sound she heard were several small bones cracking, The man dropped the gun and let out a long cry of pain.

Behind her, she heard someone finally talking to 911.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

**Acknowledgements**: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

_Summary: Blythe House learns something about Wilson (and acts accordingly)._

Cuddy came into the private hospital room to find**, **as usual, House lying on the cot, his hand holding Wilson's. She had thought he must be sleeping but he wasn't, and he sat up immediately when she entered the room. "News from my lawyer?"

"There will be a hearing, but there are so many witnesses in your favor that it will not come to a process. A clearcut case of self-defense. You broke the hand that was holding the gun."

"What are you not telling me?"

"I…I went to talk to Lucas in prison. He will soon be moved to a psychiatric ward. He had been following you for months, had stopped working and lived off his savings. He said that destroying Wilson's career would be the best way to hurt you, and that if he couldn't do that he would kill him. Said he is sorry he didn't shoot straight enough, and that he hopes you'll die of overdose and Wilson will lose his license anyway."

"What else are you not telling me?"

"He ratted on Dominika at Immigration. She might be expelled from the country permanently. I've found her a lawyer."

House sighed. "That's why I haven't yet heard from her, I guess. Thank you for the lawyer. Let me know how much I owe you."

"There's no hurry. How is Wilson? I was told he was briefly conscious this morning."

"Yes, for about thirty seconds. He looked at me and squeezed my hand and was gone. But he'll live and fully recover, apparently." He looked at the medical file on the bedside table and sighed. Wilson had two badly broken ribs, a permanently damaged lung, and a degree three concussion. The shot had missed his heart; an inch to the left and they would now be organizing his funeral. He had hovered for three days between life and death.

"He'll recover and practice again. His lawyer's committed relationship story was a stroke of genius."

"That would be _my_ genius. Except it might be the truth." He looked in her eyes, and she saw. It might be the truth, indeed. She was left wondering if this hurt more or less than the wedding. Differently, she decided, and deeper.

* * *

><p>"How are you this morning?"<p>

"Much better. I'll finally be allowed to move out of this room in a wheelchair, and being under the shower was a blessing. My ribs still hurt, though."

"You definitely smell better. Which is good because you have a lady visitor."

"Good morning, James. Hi, Greg."

"Good morning Blythe. Great to see you here in Princeton. When did you arrive?"

"Greg called me when you got shot, but I had planned a visit for a longer time. I was really mad at you both for keeping the whole liver transplant story from me, but my cardiologist approved. Thank you for saving him."

Wilson didn't know where too look. "It's my job. I'm his doctor."

Blythe smiled. "That's what I keep repeating to myself. I find the thought comforting. I'll be staying with Greg and helping for a few days. I'll go grocery shopping now, but I wanted to give you this first." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, placed an envelope on the bedside table, and left.

House grinned. "Why don't you open the envelope my mother has left for you?"

Wilson got the envelope, grimacing as his ribs protested the movement. He opened it and pulled out a 'Get Well Soon' card and a check in his name for eighty thousand dollars. "House…I can't accept this."

"You will, or I'll break more of your ribs. Don't worry, she just reverse mortgaged her house. View it as an advance on my inheritance. Your income will be lower now you can no longer be Head of Oncology, but at least since the hearing you're on paid sick leave. You'll manage to pay those damages without going broke."

"At least if you keep Vicodin free."

"I actually mind the alcohol testing more. I think I'll start smoking again."

Wilson looked positively murderous at this, and House laughed. "Making fun of oncologists is so easy it should be forbidden."

"How's Dominika doing? Is she in big trouble with Immigration?"

"No, luckily she isn't. But she was shocked by the shooting, and has decided she doesn't want to live in the U.S. after all. We'll divorce and she'll go back to Europe. She said she's considering Canada." He paused, sounding unhappy. "I'll miss her."

* * *

><p>"So, I hear you won't be able to use me as an excuse for skipping clinic duty much longer. I'm being discharged tomorrow."<p>

"I outsmarted you. Cuddy gave me two weeks of full paid leave to take care of you."

"House…you don't need to do this. I'll be fine."

"That's why I'm doing it. Cleaning your bedpan wouldn't be any better than coaxing my supposed helpmates into developing independent diagnostic skills." House paused. "Although, on second thoughts…anyway, you don't need help, so we can just watch TV the whole day. And you can cook for me, as well. Make sure my new liver gets healthy food."

"Only for two weeks, right? And only until I go back to work." Wilson paused, looking embarrassed. "There's also no reason anymore to share a bedroom."

"Maybe not. But will you humor me and keep doing so? Dominika has left, so I'll get lots of occasions to sleep alone afterward."

House's tone didn't sound happy at all. He must be really missing her, thought Wilson.

* * *

><p>House was, as usual, the first one to feel hungry. "Chinese or pizza?"<p>

"You choose. I'm too tired and am getting a beer. Should I get one for you, too?"

"Sure. We need to celebrate your first day of work since you regained your license."

Wilson sat on the couch, placing two open bottles of alcohol free beer on the coffee table and starting to drink one; House joined him and started the other once he finished his call to the Chinese restaurant.

He took a long sip of the beer. "Funny how I'm getting used to this stuff. I almost…kind of like it."

Wilson smiled. House's blood tests were going very well, and Dr. Li's regimen was working much better than anything else House had tried before. Of course it wasn't an easy life, especially with the fine-tuned balance between making sure House's immune system was protecting him and preventing it from attacking the new liver.

Wilson's smile vanished as his thoughts turned to what he knew was his next duty, unappealing but necessary.

"It's also time for you to get back to your own place. When are you moving out?"

House jumped liked he had been stung. "Are you in a hurry to kick me out? Is it Bonnie's turn this time?"

Wilson sighed. "No, of course not. But…we don't need to keep up this fiction any more. I've got my license, and you went above and beyond the call of duty in helping me with that. Now I'm healthy and I can live alone again."

House was silent for a while. The room felt unusually quiet. "Do you really want me to move out? Would it be okay if I stayed here…indefinitely?" His voice quivered on the final adverb. It was a risky one, and they both knew it.

Wilson thought before answering. "You would like that?"

"Yes. If you don't mind that we…we aren't together. You know."

"No, of course not." Wilson smiled again, and this time it was a full, happy smile. "I'd be happy to have you here as a friend."

Neither of them mentioned the possibility of changing their sleeping arrangements.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

**Acknowledgements**: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

_Summary: House learns something about himself._

On a late Saturday morning Wilson was relaxing on the couch, his belly a bit too full of the brunch he had cooked to celebrate House's four months of sobriety. He barely noticed House retrieving something from his backpack - probably some recent article in an obscure journal. He was very surprised when a sheaf of papers landed on his lap. House slouched near him on the couch and started watching his favorite soap opera at a disturbingly high volume, while Wilson tried to make sense of the documents he had in front of him.

"House! Tune that down!"

"Why?"

"Because I need to think!" Wilson's hand roamed though his hair, bringing disarray.

House lowered the volume to barely bearable. Wilson laid the documents on the coffee table.

"You…you want to buy half of my condo?"

"And move all my stuff in. My piano will fit in the guest room once we remove the bed. If we have guests, and I don't see why we should, they can sleep on the living room couch."

Wilson snatched the remote and switched off the television.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"I just want to keep all my stuff together in one place, and I'm paying rent for an apartment I don't use. My sharing the mortgage will also improve your dire financial situation. Or, rather, our financial situation. I'm fed up with stealing your money, it will be easier to just have a joint checking account."

"House…does this mean anything more?"

House placed his hand on Wilson's thigh. "You… still want this?"

"Yes." Wilson covered House's hand with his own.

"I think I want it, too. But I'm afraid. Scared."

"You weren't afraid of dying and you're afraid of…this?" Wilson stared at their hands.

"If it goes wrong I'll have to live without you." House's hand was trembling slightly.

"You won't. I'll be there for you no matter what."

"It all went terribly wrong with Cuddy. We hurt each other so much."

"Cuddy wanted you to be someone else, and thought she could fix you. I know I'm no better than you, and I like you the way you are."

"I know. That's why I want to give it a try. If you want, that is. We can take our time before getting to a final decision."

Wilson hoped that his eyes were answer enough, because his throat felt unable to let words through.

* * *

><p>Wilson felt House gently remove his hand, his arm circling his shoulders; then the other hand was holding his chin, and then there was stubble on his face, and lips pressing on his own and then the lips opened and a tongue which tasted of coffee and pancakes and something else he couldn't name started exploring his mouth. Soon both tongues were busy, apparently moved by a similar thirst. When they came up for air, House was beaming.<p>

"Let me unwrap my present." Wilson didn't immediately understand what was meant, then House's hands started pulling up his t-shirt over his head. He tried to help, but House softly said "No, let me." He relaxed and let strong, careful fingers remove the t-shirt, then the undershirt, then (here he lifted himself from the couch) slide down his sweatpants and underwear, finally free him from clothes altogether. He found himself, naked and semi-erect, in front of a fully dressed House, looking at him.

House motionedforhim to stand up, and stood on his right side, his fingers delicately roaming over his body. He started by going through his hair, then his left hand started descending along his back, exploring his shoulders, his spine, and lingering on his buttocks; the right hand, meanwhile, mirrored its motion on the front of his body, checking his face, then his throat, moving along his collarbones, stopping briefly to play with each nipple and to count the sparse hair on his chest. It reviewed the taut muscles on his belly, and finally grabbed his now fully erect cock at the same time as the left hand, sliding under his perineum, cupped his balls. House kissed him on the side of the neck, the kiss deepening until Wilson was sure he would get a hickey. He could feel House's jeans-clad erection press against his right hip.

Finally, House's right hand left him, while the left pushed him gently towards the bedroom; House collected his cane in passing, and they walked together, House's hand on the small of Wilson's back.

As they entered the bedroom, House whispered in Wilson's ear. "Lie down now. I'll strip for you." Wilson did as he was told, his eyes fixed on House while the latter carefully leaned his cane against the bedside table. He then removed his dress shirt, then his t-shirt, revealing the beautiful, toned chest he had so long loved, now permanently bearing like his own the healed scar of the liver surgery. He felt proud of it; in a sense, it was as if he had managed to give House his own liver. House sat down on the bed to remove sneakers and socks, giving him a view of strong muscular shoulders, the right one looking somewhat stronger then the left. Then House stood up again facing him, and opened his belt, then his fly. And then he slipped out of his clothes and remained briefly standing and erect in front of him, handsome in his nudity like a Greek statue, like an image out of a dream.

The image remained in his eyes as House lay down on the bed and hugged him. Wilson felt him shivering, and knew it wasn't because of the cold.

* * *

><p>"I want you inside me." House said it very fast, afraid of losing his courage. He needed to know if he could like this: the last few times, so long ago, had been less than satisfactory. But he remembered there had been good ones before. He thought briefly of Crandall, then focused back on the present.<p>

Wilson apparently heard his worries, and countered immediately "We never need to do this. In fact, we never need to do anything you don't like. Whatever is enough for you will be enough for me."

House forced his voice to stay steady. "No. I want to know. I need to know." He pulled condoms and lube out of the bedside table, then turned flat on his belly.

"House…turn around. Let me kiss you while…"

"No, I want to concentrate on this completely. Figure out how I feel about it. With you. But be careful, I haven't done this in more than twenty years."

Wilson appeared defeated. "As you want. It's probably the first time in my life I wish my dick was smaller than it is."

"And hopefully the last. Come on, we don't have all day."

Wilson chuckled. "Actually, we do. I've waited more than a decade for this, I want to take all the time you need."

* * *

><p>Wilson snuggled a bit closer. His head, still slightly damp from the shower, was comfortably lodged on House's shoulder, his nose full of the smell of soap and… and of House. They were naked under the comforter, and his left hand was idly investigating House's skin.<p>

Life felt so good, he thought, looking up to meet House's eyes.

"So, what do you think now that your more-than-twenty-year hiatus is finally over?"

"I think that buying half the condo and opening a joint checking account are definitely good ideas."

It wasn't what he expected, and yet the tone and the look to go with the sentence made him feel as if he had been made a love declaration. Maybe he had.

"Having sex with me makes you think of finances. My wives led me to believe I was better than that."

"Yes, Bonnie mentioned you were some kind of sex god."

Wilson almost jumped in House's arms. "She told you what? When? Oh my God…when you told me the contrary?"

House smiled mischievously, looking handsomer than ever, and kissed him before answering. "A long time ago, when it didn't matter. But I didn't forget it either."

Wilson closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "Great. So now that you've tried yourself, was Bonnie lying?"

House's right hand briefly held Wilson's left, motioning it down towards House's hardening cock.

"I don't think so. I would even claim it was an understatement. But I think we should try having sex together again, just to be sure we both like it."

Now both of House's hands were roaming on Wilson, one of them teasing his nipples, the other caressing his perineum, getting closer to his anus at every stroke.

"Trying sex together, in many different ways. Are you okay with that?"

The tip of House's middle finger was now centered on Wilson's entrance. Not pushing, just there. House's cock was hard in Wilson's hand.

"I'll be happy to keep trying for the rest of my life."


End file.
